


don't look down

by thesummerpalace



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Canon Jewish Character, College, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28621551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesummerpalace/pseuds/thesummerpalace
Summary: pov you are a jewish-brazilian business major at harvard and you arecurrentlygiving your best friend a handjob in his dorm room
Relationships: Eduardo Saverin/Mark Zuckerberg
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	don't look down

**Author's Note:**

> the events prior to [broken arms and mini fridges](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28449000)
> 
> . __

Eduardo’s Fundamentals of Investments textbook rests idly open on Mark’s bed. Mark’s intensely focused on his work, so Eduardo’s not. It’s almost a rule for them. The lithe Brazilian kid just lays on his back, staring at the ceiling, legs hanging off the mattress.

“Are we going to that Shabbat tomorrow? Looks kinda stupid, I know, but Dustin’s going.” Eduardo inquires, clicking the pen he’s holding.

He always starts on little tangents to break the silence. It bothers Mark, but he mostly allows it.

“Wardo.” Mark says sternly like he’s a mom on a work call and Eduardo’s his whining toddler. He points to the project on his computer screen.

“Sorry.” Eduardo puts his hands up in concession. He clicks his pen again.

Mark blinks and glares. Noises like that send him into a panic-rage. It’s one of his idiosyncrasies.

“I can’t- Dude.”

“Fuck, right, I’ll stop.”

Eduardo puts the pen down as Mark resumes typing. A few minutes go by, at least Eduardo’s Rolex tells him so. He glances at Mark, who’s shifting a bit in his seat.

“Hey, are you good?”

Eduardo looks down and sees that Mark is consciously gripping the front of the closed MacBook on his lap. He pushes it off, Mark slapping him on the wrist, then processes his confirmed speculation. His friend’s got a boner.

“Oh. You’re good.” Eduardo chaffs.

“Shut up.”

The oscillating fan in the corner produces a low hum. Mark wittingly looks away as Eduardo gives an evocative grin just to rile him.

“Can you go away? I kinda have to- take care of this." Mark stammers out, overwrought, uncomfortable, and just pissed off that Eduardo’s still sitting there bothering him about something so normal.

The room is still. Eduardo doesn’t leave, and Mark begins to interject.

"Wardo,” 

Their words overlap.

“I can help you.” Eduardo broaches, looking at the floor, complacent.

Mark raises his eyebrows in shock. He often takes things literally, so if he reacted specifically badly, Eduardo could just hide behind it being another joke that Mark didn’t perceive. It's easy to fuck with him. _So_ easy. 

“What?”

Eduardo moves closer to him. Mark stares straight ahead and Eduardo looks intently at the side of his face, trying to get him to break.

“I think you heard me.”

“I know, obviously I heard you, that’s just something really- weird, and awkward and I don’t know if you’re serious-”

“I am.”

Mark turns to meet Eduardo’s gaze.

“Why?” He shakily asks.

“It’s not weird. Why not?”

Mark deliberates. He _is_ horny, and he is bored. God knows he doesn’t get laid. And for whatever reason, he’s convinced, at least in this moment, that it isn’t weird.

“Yeah, okay.”

Eduardo smirks and places a hand on Mark’s knee, his leg trembling. Mark's lower body kind of numbs from the thrill, but pleasantly; he feels kind of high. Not like he’s stoned, more awake. He assumes this might be what coke feels like, or maybe he's being dramatic. Eduardo just caresses his inner thigh, making Mark’s muscles tighten out of sensitivity. Even now, in _this_ situation, Eduardo taunts him. It’s infuriating.

“God, Wardo, can you just jerk me off now?” Mark asserts, promptly narrowing his eyes in a smile-grimace blend, incredibly embarrassed at his sudden crassness. He even feels himself blush a little.

This surprises Eduardo, whose eyes are wide, and honestly, it surprises Mark too. He can be somewhat bossy, but this was distinct. Dominant.

“Wow. Okay.” Eduardo’s beaming at this point. He’s never seen Mark like this; demanding and intrepid and, well, turned on. He spits into his hand, eliciting a judgmental laugh from Mark.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Eduardo jokes, almost charmed at Mark’s commitment to being nitpicky at all times.

“You pick that one up in the Portuguese to English phrasebook?” Mark quips back, a nervous shiver in his voice.

With that, Eduardo reaches under Mark’s sweats, into his boxers, and gets going. It catches Mark off guard, bringing on a small gasp from him. He’s not quite sure if this is actually happening. It’s like his body’s in shock.

Eduardo doesn’t want to look. It’ll be real if he looks. His touch is moderate and calculated, and though he’d have preferred to start out slow, he wants to make Mark happy. That’s the only reason he’s doing it, or so he’s trying to assure himself.

Mark manages out a breathy “…feelsgood.”

Eduardo gives a gauche thumbs up, maintaining eye contact, and immediately regrets it. He’s mentally repeating to himself _don't look down_ like he’s on the cable car above Corcovado back home. As his strokes get faster, he can feel Mark get firmer in his hand. Mark is purely elated and focused, and Eduardo’s a little pleased himself, really more than he’d like to admit. Seeing Mark abandon trying to suppress his moans, articulating a ‘fuck’ and a gratuitously sensual ‘Eduardo’, Eduardo’s met with the overwhelming impulse to make out with him, offensively; to suck on his lips and shove his tongue down his throat. As his own hardness throbs, his pants seeming tighter, Eduardo feels utterly godless. Unkosher. He doesn't think he's ever felt this about any girl. This profound, feverish hunger.

He realizes Mark’s gasps are getting shorter, interrupting his carnal reverie.

“Are you gonna come?”

“Yeah.” Mark confirms, his diction oddly clear, with an eyes-closed nod. It's very Mark of him. He finishes, emitting a sharp inhale, then a gratified sigh. Eduardo can only try to distract himself from his own lust. He just grabs a tissue from the box on top of the radiator and hands it to Mark, who takes it, still entranced.

Mark just sits there, euphoric, while Eduardo’s more conflicted. He’s been prescribed enough clarity and guilt for the both of them. But Mark’s happy, so he can’t get too hung up on what got him there.

Or, really, _who_ got him there.


End file.
